Gallows Pole
by lady scribe of avandell
Summary: “I’m sorry,” he says, though he’s not sure if he is apologizing for his brother or himself. AU version of Born Under a Bad Sign. Please read warnings before reading.
1. Keep You From the Gallows Pole

Title: Keep You from the Gallows Pole

Characters: Dean, Jo, Sam (undertones of Dean/Jo)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 680

Warnings: dark!fic, mentions of rape, spoilers for Born Under a Bad Sign

Summary: "I'm sorry," he says, though he's not sure if he is apologizing for his brother or himself.

Notes: AU version of BUaBS. Please see the warnings before you read. Title is from the song "Gallows Pole" by Led Zeppelin.

* * *

When he finds her, he already knows he's too late. His brother is gone, and Jo is lying against the post she's been tied to, her shirt ripped and her jeans down at her knees. 

He takes off his jacket and lays it across her lap before he moves to untie the ropes around her wrists. She jumps a little and then moans. "Jo?" he whispers, not trusting his voice not to break.

"Dean?" He gulps as he hears the terror in her voice. She glances at him before turning her head every which way. "Is h- he here?" she asks, her voice small, and he sees that her hands are shaking even as he undoes the last of the knots.

"He's gone," he answers raggedly. _He's gone_, and there's nothing to be done about it.

He averts his eyes as she stands and pulls her jeans back over her hips, but he notices that she does it slowly and shakily. She hands him his jacket in silent thanks, and he finally looks at her face. She isn't crying, but he can see the tracks left by earlier tears. He lifts a hand as if to touch her, but she flinches and he lets it drop back to his side.

"I'm sorry," he says, though he's not sure if he is apologizing for his brother or for himself. She doesn't say anything, so he speaks again. "Did he – did he say anything about where he's going next?"

She shakes her head. "No," she whispers, and he wonders what his brother _did _say.

"Oh." He pauses. "Are – will you – " He breaks off, not sure how to say what needs to be said. "He's not himself," he finishes lamely, the words hollow and useless even to his own ears.

"I know," she says, and she shudders involuntarily, as if she can still feel the hands of – he stops himself, refusing to finish the thought, because that would mean that his brother has become dangerous, has become the one thing he fears the most.

"I think he's going after hunters," he tells her. "The closest one I know is in South Dakota." He half-shrugs and says, "If I'm gonna get there in time, I need to leave now."

She swallows and nods, looking everywhere but at him and at the post where she had been tied. "Can I – I'd like to go with you," she says.

He blinks at her; of all the things he'd thought she would say, that was certainly not one of them. "What? Why?"

She takes a deep breath and looks at him. "He – I… never mind." She looks away again, and he gets the distinct impression that she's keeping something from him.

"Jo, what is it?"

"I think he's possessed." She says it so softly that he almost doesn't hear her. "The things he said – there's no way he would have known them otherwise." She shudders. "I know demons lie, but do they ever tell the truth?" She looks straight at him this time, and there is such hope in her eyes that he'll say no, that he almost lies.

"Sometimes," he has to admit. "Especially if they know it will mess with your head. Why do you ask?"

"It doesn't matter," she answers, but he can see that whatever the reason for her question, it matters a lot. "Let's just go." She starts to head toward the counter, but he stops her, grabs her hand – a mistake, since she flinches again and pulls away. "Don't," she says.

"Jo, you're not coming with me."

"Why not?" she counters. "This is my fight, too, now. He made it mine."

"You can't come. I can't trust myself to save him and watch out for you. I don't want your blood on my hands, too. I'm sorry," he says.

Her jaw tightens and she scowls at him, but she seems to accept it, so he heads for the door. He's about to walk out when she stops him. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Call me when you find him."

He nods. "I will."


	2. A Face From the Ancient Gallery

Title: A Face from the Ancient Gallery

Characters: Dean, Jo (no pairing)

Rating: R for violence and language

Word Count: 1409

Warnings: AU dark!fic, rape, spoilers for Born Under a Bad Sign

Summary: He feels different, as if he is outside his own body, as if he is watching a movie rather than acting it out.

Notes: This is a companion piece to my other BUaBS fic, Keep You from the Gallows Pole. Please read that one first, or this will not make any sense. Part of the dialogue is taken directly from BUaBS. Title is from "The End" by The Doors. Also, please note the warnings before reading the story.

* * *

He is not himself anymore. He feels different, as if he is outside his own body, as if he is watching a movie rather than acting it out. It's as if he's taken a back seat to his life and let someone else drive. 

He isn't sure where he is. It's late – maybe midnight, maybe later – and the wind is blowing in off the lake. Something is not right, and he can feel it curling around the edges of his consciousness, as if something or someone is lurking just inside the shadows, and then _oh_. _Ohhh_. He understands, and he's starting to remember, the blood on his hands and the knife between that man's ribs – the man he'd never seen before watching himself beat him and gut him on the computer screen in his house.

He can feel the twisted delight filling him as the Thing that has pushed him back into the nether regions of his mind laughs. _Just wait,_ it tells him._You'll like this even more_.

Dean tries to make himself to stop moving then, because he knows that whatever this monster has planned, it's not going to be pretty and it's going to force him to watch every moment and there will be nothing he can do to stop it. It doesn't work, of course, and even as every fiber of his being protests against it, his body moves toward the door of the little bar by the edge of the docks.

He walks inside and the girl wiping down the bar says, "We're closed."

"I know," he hears himself say, and the girl looks up and _oh God, it's Jo_.

Her brow furrows. "Dean? What are you doing here? Where's Sam?"

_I don't know,_ he screams inside. _I don't know_. But the monster that fills him says, "Heard you were here, thought I'd come see you," and Dean can feel it twist his features into a smile.

"How'd you find me?" she asks.

"It's kind of our job."

She lifts her chin and then asks, "Where'd you say Sam was?"

The monster shrugs and says, "Sleeping off the beer he had earlier. I tried to tell him to lay off, but you know Sam. Always has to be difficult."

Jo's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. "Sam drinks? Huh. And here I thought he never touched a beer bottle in his life."

_Good girl,_ Dean thinks. _Don't let it get off so easy._

"You'd be surprised," the monster says as it seats itself at the bar. "So, can I get a drink?"

"One beer." She grabs a bottle from beneath the counter and sets it out in front of him. "So what do you want, Dean?"

It smiles as she comes back around the bar and sits on a stool beside him. "Can't I just enjoy the pleasure of your company, Jo?"

She sets her jaw and counters, "You wanted that, you shoulda tried a long time ago. What do you really want?"

"I want you," the Thing says.

She eyes him suspiciously and Dean could – would – kiss her for knowing something was not right. "Are you drunk or high or something?"

Dean can feel that twisted smile again as it says, "No."

"I think you should go," she says, and she starts to stand but it grabs her wrist and holds it against the bar.

"I think you're wrong," it says, squeezing her arm, and Dean's stomach drops because suddenly he _knows_ what's coming, and he can't stop it. He rails against it, screaming silently for Jo to run far and fast before it can hurt her

"Please, Dean," Jo says, her voice trembling with a fear that wasn't there a moment ago. "Just go."

"What, Jo? Don't you like me?" it says, and it's such a black parody of Dean's own 'innocent' voice that he swears to himself he'll never use it again. "I thought you had a little schoolgirl crush on me." And it's pulled her closer to him, running a hand along the side of her face, whispering in her ear. "Or did that really end when you found out the truth about your daddy?"

"Let me go," she grinds out, but it doesn't relent.

"All right," it says, and it pushes off her and stands up. "See you around, Jo," it says as it walks toward the door.

Dean would shout for joy, but just as quickly as it pushed away from Jo, it turns and grabs her, holding her close against his chest. He can feel her struggling against him and out of the corner of his eye he sees her reach for the beer bottle on the counter, but so does the monster, and it knocks it away before turning her so her back is against him.

"Dean!" she screams. "Dean, let me go! Please! Dea – " But her last shout is cut off as he slams her head into the bar.

"It didn't have to be this way," whispers the monster with Dean's voice as it caresses her cheek. "Or maybe it did."

She stirs as it ties her wrists behind the post in the center of the bar. The monster has put on a record – The Doors' first album – and Dean would shudder if he could as Jim Morrison's voice starts filling the room.

"What – what are you doing?" Jo asks, her voice soft, timid, scared, even as she strains against the ropes that bind her wrists. "What's going on? Why, Dean?"

The monster laughs. "Why Dean, indeed," it says as it pulls out Dean's Bowie knife. It paces around her, making a lazy circle, the knife flashing in the light, and then it comes to a stop and whispers in her ear. "Don't you know the answer, Jo?" She's silent, and Dean can see the muscles in her jaw twitch. "After all, you're the one who chose him."

And in that instant, Dean can see the understanding dawn on Jo's face. "What are you?" she says. "A shapeshifter? What have you done with him? Where's Dean?"

It moves away just a little bit and spreads his arms out. "I'm right here, Jo," it says, in perfect mockery of his voice. "What? Aren't you glad to see me?"

"You're not Dean," she spits, but the monster merely smiles.

"Don't be so sure about that."

"What have you done to him?" she whispers, fear lacing her voice.

"Nothing. I'm right here, Jo," it repeats, and for a moment it lets Dean have his body back, lets him have control again.

"Jo, I'm sorry, I can't – " he manages before it throws him back into the nether of his mind.

When it lets him back up to the surface, it has ripped Jo's shirt and undone her pants. Dismay fills Dean as he watches his hands fumble with the zipper on his own jeans. Jo has tears streaming down her face, and he wants nothing more than anything to be able to walk away from this, to end it, but the monster won't let him.

"Shhh," it whispers, brushing a hand against Jo's face, wiping away the tears. "Everything will be all right," it says, and Dean's not sure if the monster is trying to reassure Jo or himself or itself or what. "This won't hurt a bit," it says, and it slices the elastic on Jo's cotton panties as she shakes with terror.

It thrusts into her again and again, and she goes limp against him. Dean doesn't know if she has fainted from shock or pain or fear or even just sheer force of will, but he's glad that at least one of them is not awake for this horror. He rages against the monster inside him, but it does not matter: the creature forces him to watch every moment, to feel every surge of shameful desire that runs through him.

When it is finished, Dean is almost thankful for the monster inside him; he knows if it left him now, his legs would give out and he would collapse on the floor. It rezips his jeans and crouches down beside Jo and brushes her hair out of her face. "Goodbye, Jo," it whispers, and it kisses her with Dean's lips before rising.

It walks out the door, and if Dean had control of his body, he'd be vomiting on the threshold. The monster laughs inside him and says, _See? I told you you would like it._

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Author's Note: whispers I think I broke Dean. 

This is by far the darkest piece of literature I have ever written in my life. It was not easy by any stretch of the imagination. When I wrote the prequel to this, I was not expecting to write a companion. Hell, I didn't even expect the twist at the end of that piece, and I wrote it! After I posted it, though, I realized that I needed to write Dean's perspective. So, this is what came of it.

As I wrote this, though, it became less and less about the rape of Jo and more about the rape of Dean by the demon, both psychologically and physically.

A note on the title: At first, I wanted to find another Led Zeppelin song to rip off to match "Gallows Pole," but I searched through the lyrics of all their songs (yes, I really did), and nothing fit. And then I realized that I just needed to look to The Doors, whose music has that shudder-inducing quality even when they're not singing about death. So, "The End."

_ The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on_

_He took a face from the ancient gallery_

_And he walked on down the hall_

_He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he_

_Paid a visit to his brother, and then he_

_He walked on down the hall... _


End file.
